


Not Your Type

by a_splash_of_stucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actress!Reader, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Engineer!Wanda, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Mentions of Tony Stark, Nerd!Wanda, Secret Relationship, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 14:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12323061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_splash_of_stucky/pseuds/a_splash_of_stucky
Summary: Your friends cannot believe that you, of all people, ended up with a geek.





	Not Your Type

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for [this](https://bookybuns.tumblr.com/post/165368327482/fic-fest-writing-challenge/) fic writing challenge. The prompt I had was: _S/he is really nerdy and you’re really popular and everyone’s confused as to how you two are in a relationship._
> 
> Okay, I kinda feel like this prompt is perhaps more suited to a high school/college AU, but that’s not my jam, so I took it down another road. Takes place in a modern/no powers AU — hopefully it still works!
> 
> I will be completely honest: my initial idea was for a pre-serum!Steve x Reader one-shot, but when I started writing, it didn’t work out. After much deliberation, discarded drafts and tears later, here is what I came up with. My first Wanda x Reader fic. Enjoy :)

The arrival of your guests is signalled by the loud ringing of your buzzer. You dash over to the door, throwing it open with a dramatic flourish.

“Enter, good fellows,” you say solemnly, adding to your theatrics with an exaggerated bow. Bucky snorts, stepping past you and making a beeline for the TV to get the DVD set up. Tonight is movie night, and as it’s Sam’s turn to pick, you’re all being subjected to yet another re-watch of Forrest Gump.

Steve brushes past you, Natasha hot on his heels. He has a carrier bag filled to the brim with various kinds of junk food in one hand. “You in a medieval play or something?” Steve asks amusedly, as he brings the bag over to the coffee table.

“Nah,” you drawl, moving to help Sam bring in the pizza boxes, kicking the door shut with your foot. “But we’re thinking of it. Maria’s got some ideas for a script,”.

Natasha sets two bottles of vodka — the good stuff, imported from Russia — down on the coffee table, then curls up on the overstuffed armchair that she always claims on movie nights. “Why do you look so happy, Y/N?” she asks curiously, folding her fingers under her chin, “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Oh, nothing,” you reply airily, even though that’s an outright lie. You tug on the neckline of your oversized sweater, readjusting it self-consciously in the hopes that no one will spot the purpling hickey on your collarbone.

“Nothing?” Nat echoes, picking up on the unusual tone in your voice. “You’re not acting like it. I think something’s up,”.

“Someone remind her that this is not a detective show,” Sam sighs, as he helps you set out the boxes of pizza. You force out a laugh, hoping that it will be enough to throw Nat off your scent.

“Is it something to do with work? You got a big part for once, or something?” asks Steve, who is busy arranging the rest of the food on the remaining space on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” you reply immediately, mentally thanking Steve for coming to your rescue, albeit unknowingly. You fill in the terse silence that follows by helping Steve and Sam finish laying out the array of food. This ensures that your back is turned to Nat, preventing her from being able to see your face and make any further deductions. Why does she have to be so good at reading you?

“Can you tell us anything about it?” Bucky calls, talking over his shoulder as he turns the TV on and starts to tinker with the settings.

“Uh—I’m…not allowed to say anything,” you mumble haltingly.

“When’s that ever stopped you from telling us before?” Steve asks, one eyebrow quirking up in surprise.

“Yeah, you literally give jack shit about confidentiality agreements, Y/N,” Bucky adds.

Damn, they’ve got you there. You hesitate for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek as your brain scrambles to come up with a response. A startled yelp escapes your throat when you feel a hand on your shoulder, yanking aside the neckline of your sweater—

—to expose the hickey and therefore the secret you’d been fighting to keep.

“Oh my god,” Nat breathes, seeing straight through your sham and figuring out exactly what your secret is. “You got  _laid_ , Y/N, and laid  _good_ ,”.

“Natasha!” Steve cries exasperatedly, standing up to go sit on the couch.

Bucky snickers, “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Stevie. You take pictures of half-naked people on a weekly basis,”. He’s done fiddling with the settings on your sound system now, so stands up to grab a slice of pizza.

“That’s different!” Steve splutters indignantly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “That’s for work, Bucky, this is Y/N’s private life,”.

“Which we all now want to know about,” Sam adds, as he takes a slice of pizza for himself and plops down on the floor beside you. “C’mon, Y/N, spill the beans. Who was it?” he asks, elbowing you playfully in the ribs.

“No one,” you reply curtly, swatting his arm away and turning your gaze to the TV, where Forest Gump is waiting to be played. “Can we start the movie yet?”

“Oh, she’s avoiding us, now!” Bucky chuckles, “Now I  _really_ wanna know what this is about,”. Heat begins to rise in your cheeks as you feel everyone’s questioning gaze being turned on you. You’re in the hot seat tonight, it would seem.

“Was it a one-night stand?” Steve asks curiously, “Never would’ve thought of you as a one night stand kinda gal,”.

“Nu-uh, look at this face,” Sam interjects, poking his index finger into your cheek to emphasise his point. “That’s the face of a girl who’s got something  _way_  more meaningful than a one-nighter,”.

“You’re seeing someone!” Nat squeals excitedly, practically bouncing in her chair with glee, “C’mon, c’mon,  _please_  tell us who,”.

“I shall not,” you say, miming the act of zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key.

“Get her phone,” Bucky says suddenly, whipping his head from side to side in search of it. Your eyes widen, heart doing a terrifying flip in your chest. You go to grab it from where it lies on top of the side-table beside the couch, but Nat beats you to it, easily snagging it from where she sits on the armchair.

“You don’t know my—,”

“I’m in,” she crows triumphantly, flipping the phone around to show everyone your home screen.

“How the hell do you know my passcode?” you ask bewilderedly, standing up and walking over to Nat in the hope of snatching your phone out of her hand whilst she’s distracted. You have no such luck; she plants her foot on your thigh to keep you a distance away, waggling her eyebrows in a most infuriating manner when you growl at her.

“Honey, everyone knows your password,” Steve says gently, “You’re kinda predictable like that,”.

“I fucking hate you all,” you grumble, watching helplessly as Nat taps away at your screen, looking through your messages. It’s clear that you’ve lost this fight. Bucky drapes his arms across the back of the sofa, peering down interestedly over her shoulder.

“Guys, can we just—.”

“Oooh, Wanda? Is that her name?” Nat asks, her eyes gleaming with mischief when she lifts them to meet your murderous glare.

“Maybe,” you say, dragging the two syllables out. You’re hopping from foot to foot agitatedly, praying that the gang will drop this line of enquiry sometime soon. Preferably right fucking now.

The issue is not in you being unwilling to tell your friends about your new relationship. No, you’re more than ready — have  _been_ more than ready for the last couple of weeks, in fact, almost bursting at the seams in your eagerness.

The problem is that you and Wanda have not yet had a discussion about making your relationship publicly known. Although you’re fairly certain that the two of you are on the same page, you don’t want to tell your closest friends about your budding relationship without her consent. It’s just not right.

“Maybe?” Steve murmurs.

“It’s a yes, Steve,” Sam says, pointedly avoiding your stare as he rips open a crisp packet.

“It’s a maybe,” you insist.

“Yep, that’s a definite yes,” Bucky comments, his eyes flickering over your face, assessing your expression.

“Fuck you,” you growl half-heartedly, no heat behind your words. How is it that they’re reading you like an open book? You’re an actress, for crying out loud, you should have an  _amazing_ poker face.

Maybe they just know you too well. Yeah, it’s probably that.

“You can’t, unfortunately,” Bucky sighs, as Natasha hands you your phone. “Can’t fuck me when you’ve got a girlfriend, Y/N, unless your morals are shittier than I expected,”.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you huff, stalking over to the end of the couch not currently occupied by Steve and flopping onto it.

“Who is she?” Steve asks curiously, turning to face you.

“Yeah, what does she work as? How did you meet? Give us the details, Y/N, c’mon,” Sam pleads.

You groan resignedly, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. It seems that movie night has morphed into gossip night. What more could you expect with this lot, really?

“She works in Stark Industries, in the R&D labs,” you reply, “She does…calculations and shit like that,”.

A silence descends over the room after your explanation, four perplexed pairs of eyes focused on you. The intensity of their gaze and the wave of confusion radiating off of everyone is uncomfortable enough to make you fidget under their scrutiny.

“What?” you snap.

Sam is the first to break out of his stupor. He clears his throat. “You’re dating…a math geek?”

Something in his tone immediately sets you on edge, your metaphorical claws coming out in anticipation of an attack. “What’s wrong with that?” you ask defensively.

Bucky is the one to answer you. “Um, hi, hello, who are you and what have you done with Y/N?”

“What?” you squawk, utterly puzzled by your friends’ reactions to your news. This is not how you pictured things going; you’re so confused. “Guys, I seriously don’t get it? What’s wrong? What’re you on about?”

“Y/N, you’ve  _hated_ maths for as long as we’ve known you. Longer, probably,” Natasha says.

“So? I can hate maths but not hate Wanda,” you point out.

“But that’s not my point,” she continues, “What I’m trying to say is that not once in your life have you ever had enough patience to deal with nerds,”.

“You  _are_ the girl who told Mr Coulson in maths to shove a stick up his ass in senior year,” Sam muses, pointing at you with what is possibly his fourth slice of pizza.

“ _And_ you teased Peter for trying too hard in physics for all of sophomore year,” Bucky adds.

“Oh!” Steve exclaims, “And you weren’t particularly nice to Scott—,”

“Okay, I get the fucking idea,” you snap.

And the truth is, they do have a point. A very good one, at that.

Wanda is not the kind of girl you pictured yourself ending up with at this stage in your life. Your teenage self would not have hesitated to scorn her in some way. Back in high school, you had been one of the popular girls, reputed for always being up for a good time on the weekends. To add to your stereotypical popular girl image, you were always surrounded by a gaggle of adoring friends. You might, at some points in your high school years, been unnecessarily mean to the smart kids in school — mostly because you were  _jealous_ of their ability to perform so well. Drama and theatre had always been your passion, and you did not have a single drop of academic ability in you. You hated learning with a vengeance and devoted very little time to studying, which in turn meant that you were scraping by each test by the skin of your teeth.

Wanda, by contrast, is something of a mathematical prodigy — working in the Stark Industries R&D department, one would expect nothing less. After finishing high school two years early, she was offered a full scholarship at the National University of Wakanda, one of the world’s leading institutions in engineering. Wanda graduated with first-class honours for the three undergraduate programs she participated in, and was promptly snatched up by Stark the moment she set foot in the working world.

The two of you could not have been more different if you’d tried.

“Is this the kind of stuff she deals with?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. He twists around, reaching behind him to grab a sheaf of papers from the decorative side table beside the couch. “Didn’t think they were anything at first, then I saw the Stark logo and thought—hey!” he protests, as Sam snatches the papers out of his hands.

He whistles through his teeth, one eyebrow arching so high it’s a wonder that it’s still on his forehead at all. “Trajectory calculations, maximum speed estimates, idealised weight distribution—Y/N, this sounds like some pretty intense stuff,” Sam observes.

“I know,” you sigh, “We’re dating, remember? We’ve talked about her work before,”.

“She just…doesn’t seem like your type,” Bucky comments offhandedly, perching himself on the armrest of Nat’s chair.

“What d’you mean?” you ask, defensive shields up again, fists raised in the figurative sense.

“She’s academically gifted and you’re—well, not. You literally  _hate_  this kind of shit,” Bucky reminds you.

“I—she’s not a nerd just because she’s smart,” you cry exasperatedly, “And even if she  _was_ a nerd, I can like whoever I want! She’s a nice person, okay?”

“We just thought you’d be avoiding people like her,” Nat says, “That you’d end up with someone different. Wouldn’t have pegged—,”

“—me, for going after someone like Wanda? A math geek?”. You laugh bitterly, shaking your head in disappointment, “Guess I’m not as predictable as you expected, huh? Who would’ve thought that  _I_ , a girl who can barely recite her twelve times-tables, who’s mated math with a passion their entire life, who’s hated  _school_ her entire life would end up with someone like  _Wanda_ ,” you say mockingly. “Look, let’s just drop the subject, alright?”

“When do we get to meet her?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, you seem to like her a lot. Why haven’t you introduced us?” Bucky adds.

You massage your temples gently, feeling a minor headache setting in from the onslaught of questions.

“First off, we’ve literally only been seeing each other for the last four months. In that time, you’ve been away careening through the hills of Scotland with nothing but a film camera,” you say, pointing towards Bucky. “You’ve had to finish writing a book, you’ve been going crazy prepping for NYFW and  _you’ve_  literally had about a million commissions to finish,” you add, pointing to Sam, Nat and Steve in turn. “There just hasn’t been an opportunity for me to do introductions,”.

“Jeez, we really need to make more time to see each other,” Nat says.

“Secondly,” you continue, folding your arms over your chest, “I was afraid of  _this_. Of you all being judgemental and mean and — look, she’s not the most confident of girls, okay? I don’t…I really like her, guys,”

“We’re not that terrible,” Bucky mutters.

“ _You_ kinda are,” Steve teases. The statement earns him a murderous glare from Bucky.

“Well, hey, how’s about this weekend you bring her over to our place?” Sam suggests, “We’re having a dinner for my birthday—,”.

“Your birthday’s next week, bird-brain,” Bucky interrupts.

“I  _know_ , that,” Sam huffs, annoyed. “I’m going back to see my ma for my birthday, so we’re celebrating it here early, or did you forget,  _old man?_ ”

“Why you—,”

“Okay!” you interrupt, holding both hands up in surrender, “I’ll do it. I’ll talk to Wanda, see what she thinks, and then bring her over if she says yes. Can we watch the goddamn movie now?”

—————————————

Wanda comes over about an hour after everyone has left. You’re half-asleep on your couch when you hear her key jingling in the lock.

“Hey,” she chirrups, as she shrugs off her coat. “How was it? Did you have fun?”. Beneath her coat, you see that she has on a pair of black pants and a burgundy blouse. She must have stayed late at work and then come straight here.

“It was okay,” you sigh, slowly moving into an upright position make room on the couch for her. Wanda kicks off her shoes and curls up against your side with her head resting on your shoulder.

“What’s up?” Wanda asks, squeezing your thigh, “You seem a little off,”.

“Do you think we’re compatible?” you ask abruptly. “As in, together, do you think we—are we a good match?”

The hesitation and doubt in your tone triggers her suspicions. Wanda sits up and turns to look at you. “Y/N?” she murmurs concernedly, reaching up to cup your cheek, “What’s going on?”

“They found out. About you and me,” you say, the words coming out in a rush.

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “…okay? So what’s the big deal?” Wanda asks.

You sigh, scrubbing one hand over your face frustratedly. “It’s—okay, basically, they said some things that made me…I guess, doubt the future of our relationship,” you explain.

Wanda nods thoughtfully. “What did they say?”

You proceed to tell her — in great detail — the events that took place in the last couple of hours. Wanda makes muted humming noises every now and then to show that she is listening intently.

“So yeah. I just—what they said left me a bit shaken up,”, you say, “What bugs me is the fact that they implied that…it’s surprising for someone like me to end up with someone like you,”.

“Someone like me?” Wanda echoes, tilting her head to the side.

“A math genius. A nerd, I guess,” you clarify. “I was never…academically inclined in school. And these guys grew up with me — they know that I was hopeless. I was always the popular girl, y’know? Good at drama — the subject, that is — but a failure at everything else,” you say bitterly.

“And that matters because?” Wanda prompts, letting her voice trail off at the end.

“Babe,” you huff, “Do you  _get_ what I’m tryna say? Like, I literally had to do re-sits just to  _pass_. I was — and I hate to admit this — the kind of girl that used to pick on nerds,”. The confession sends a hot rush of shame through your system. High school was not your finest years; you did some pretty bitchy things back then.

“Well, I think we’ve been working out fine,” Wanda declares, as she pulls herself into your lap, thighs bracketing yours and hands resting on your shoulders. “What does it matter what they say?”

“But I used to be a  _bitch_ —,”

“But that’s not who you are  _now_ ,” Wanda reminds you, brushing her thumb against the crook of your neck soothingly. “We all made mistakes in our past. I don’t care who you were back then, all I know is that the Y/N  _I’m_ in love with, is sweet and kind and loving and—,”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you giggle.

“I was gonna say an asshole,” Wanda teases. You roll your eyes, shaking your head in amusement.

“Okay, no, but seriously,” she continues, tone taking on a more sombre note, “I don’t care what you were like back then. That’s not who you are now, and you  _realise_  your mistakes and frankly, that’s good enough for me,”.

“I’m  _not_  the same girl anymore,” you agree, “ _God_ , you are so smart, did you know that?”

Wanda snorts. “With three degrees? Hell yeah, I think so,”.

The two of your burst out laughing, Wanda burying her face into the side of your neck as her entire body quakes with giggles. “So what d’you say?” you ask, once you’ve both calmed down enough to speak coherently. “Sam’s invited us over for a dinner party at his house this weekend, shall we go?”

“Sure,” Wanda agrees, shrugging indifferently, “I finally get to meet these guys, it’ll be fun!”

“You might change your mind once you  _actually_ , meet them,” you warn. “I told them to be nice, but—,”

“I can take care of myself, Y/N,” Wanda sighs, petting you on the cheek. “Besides, remember what you always say? If I’m happy and you’re happy, then who gives a damn about what anyone else says?”

The corner of your lip tugs up at the endearment in her voice. “You’re happy?” you echo, nuzzling a little into her touch.

Wanda nods, an elated smile pulling at her lips. “I am,” she murmurs, leaning forward to rest her forehead against yours, “I really am,”. You tip your head up, just enough to graze your lips against hers. It’s a soft kiss to reinforce the words that you’ve shared with each other tonight; a declaration of your undying devotion to and faith in one another.

“You know what’d make me happier?” you mumble, barely breaking the kiss to speak.

A pause, then, “Sex?”

“Mind reader,” you chuckle, as you press another kiss to her lips — a little dirtier this time, your tongue darting out to flick over her bottom lip.

“What d’you want?” Wanda breathes, tantalisingly trailing her fingers down your arms, “A bath together? Take this to the bedroom?”

It is at this moment that a particularly wide yawn decides to break free, the wall of fatigue hitting you like a tonne of bricks. Wanda laughs fondly. “Okay, I think maybe save sex for the morning, bed right now?” she suggests as she clambers off you, grabbing your wrists to help you up.

“Mmm, I think I’m about ready to pass out,” you agree, nodding sleepily.

“I shall lull you to sleep by talking about the entry angle calculations I was doing today,” Wanda promises.

“Hell yes,” you groan approvingly, “Talk nerdy to me,”.

“Babe!” Wanda whines, “You’re not supposed to use that line anymore!”

—————————————

It’s a few days later and the two of you are in your car, driving over to Sam and Natasha’s house. You can tell that Wanda is nervous because she won’t stop plucking at the hem of her shirt.

“What if they don’t like me?” she asks suddenly.

You turn to face her as best as you can whilst still keeping one eye on the road. “They will,” you say simply, reassuring her with a pat on the thigh.

“But what if they don’t?” she frets, “What if I geek out? What if—,”

“Wanda,” you say sharply, cutting through the cloud of panic she’s stirred up around herself. “Stop worrying, okay? They’re nice, I promise,” you say. “Well,  _nice_ , is relative, I guess. They can be assholes when they want to be,” you amend.

“But they said you and I weren’t meant to be together!” Wanda protests.

“That is  _not_ what they said,” you say gently, “Don’t exaggerate. They just…think we’re an odd match. I’m sure they’ll come ‘round. Just be Wanda and you’ll be fine,”.

“Just be me,” she repeats, nodding her head resolutely, talking more to herself than to you.

“Exactly,” you murmur, taking your hand off her thigh and placing it back on the steering wheel.

“But don’t leave me alone with Nat. She scares me,”.

—————————————

Wanda is sat next to you on the couch. Sam and Bucky are engaging in a heated argument over the latest episode of  _The Avengers_ , which ended with The Hulk stealing a quinjet and flying off to god-knows-where.

“I think that’s gonna be the end of him for this season,” Bucky insists.

“No way!” Sam protests, “He’s like, everyone’s favourite character. They have  _got_ to have something big planned for him,”.

“If you think about the larger scale of things,” Wanda interrupts smoothly, “I believe it’s more likely that they’ll bring him back in the next season,”.

“I like this one,” Bucky says approvingly, flashing Wanda a lopsided grin.

“ _But_ , with that being said, I don’t think that’s the end of him for this season. Maybe they’ll do like…a special episode? I mean, they’re only on episode three, right?” Wanda continues.

“Exactly!” Sam cries.

“A mediator. I like you,” Steve says lazily. He’s in the kitchen with Natasha, heating something up in the oven.

“Anyone who can get Barnes and Wilson to shut up for more than two minutes is a god-send,” Nat chimes in.

It seems that your fears as to whether or not Wanda would be accepted by your group of friends have been unfounded. She’s clicked with them from pretty much the second she walked through the door. You have a feeling that your friends — Nat and Sam in particular — might still have a hard time accepting the fact that the two of you are now a package deal, but at least they like her. That’s always a good start.

“Anyone for a pre-dinner shot?” Nat asks, coming into the living room with a bottle of tequila in one hand, a stack of shot glasses in the other. Sam and Bucky immediately agree, but your girlfriend hesitates.

“Oh, no thank you,” Wanda says, “Uh—I don’t drink,”.

“How the hell do you survive with Y/N?” Sam asks incredulously, as he accepts a shot glass from Natasha. “She is  _literally_ the biggest party animal out of all of us,”.

“Am not,” you grumble.

“Oh, it’s no big deal, really,” Wanda assures him, ignoring you completely, “She goes out with you guys, and then I take care of her afterwards. I like it, she’s funny when she gets drunk,”.

Bucky laughs, “This is true. Y’know, I have a video of her singing Bohemian Rhapsody in—,”

“You promised me you’d delete that!” you cry indignantly.

“Really?” Wanda laughs, turning to Bucky, “Yeah, I have a couple of videos like that too, I can show you them—,”.

“You will not show them  _anything_ ,” you growl threateningly.

“Show us!” Nat urges, bounding over to Wanda’s side as the latter pulls her phone out of her pocket. Steve, Sam and Bucky crowd in too.

“I hate you all,” you mutter, even though you’re secretly happy to see them getting along.

—————————————

Dinner turns out to be much more pleasant than you thought it would be. Sam and Natasha are currently in the kitchen packing away the leftovers, whilst the rest of you have retreated to the living room. You’re perched on the armrest of Sam’s ugly ass vinyl armchair, which Wanda has chosen to sit on.

“So, Wanda, Y/N tells us you work in Stark Industries?” Steve asks, as he flops down on the couch, pushing aside Bucky’s legs to make room for himself.

“Yep,” Wanda replies, “I’m in the R&D department,”.

“So what’s that like?” Bucky asks, turning his head to face her, “Do you actually  _get_ to work with the big man, or are you just in your own world doing calculations and shit?”

“It’s a bit of both,” Wanda admits, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t get to talk to Tony often, but I’ve met him a couple of times,”.

“What d’you think of him?”

“He’s a little…much, sometimes,” Wanda confesses.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard too,” he says. “So what’re you working on now?”

Wanda sits up straighter, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m actually involved in a couple of projects. The one we’re most buzzed about is the new arc reactor tech,” Wanda says, hands gesturing excitedly as she gets into a rhythm. “So Stark Tower is powered by this enormous arc reactor, which is basically an alternative energy source. Tony’s idea is to use this tech to power space exploration, which in turn means that I’ve been up to my elbows in projectile and trajectory calculations, trying to—,” Wanda cuts herself off suddenly, a pink tinge starting to colour the tops of her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she mutters sheepishly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers in the way she does when she’s panicking, “You were probably expecting a shorter answer. I geeked out a bit there,”

“No, it’s completely fine!” Steve assures her, “This is actually kinda interesting,”.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “I’ve always had a thing for science. Stevie and I once went to the Stark Expo a few years back. The one where they demoed the flying car?”

“Oh, that one!” Wanda exclaims, “Tony still hasn’t given up on it, y’know? He’s even thinking about making it semi-autonomous,”

“Really?” Bucky hums, “So how’d that work then?”

Wanda picks up her purse and rummages around for a scrap of paper and a pen. She flattens the paper out on the coffee table and begins to sketch out a diagram — you can’t really make out what it is from your vantage point. “So, this is what the average car looks like, right?” she begins, adding a few lines to the sketch, “Now let me show you how a floating car differs…”

You tune out her voice as you cast a glance over Steve and Bucky. Both are leaning forward to get a closer look at her diagram, wearing curious expressions on their faces. They ask questions every now and then, which Wanda answers eagerly. She is in her element, talking about the thing that she loves most and in all honesty, you couldn’t be happier for her. Confident that she can stand to be without your presence for a second, you slip into the kitchen to check up on Nat and Sam.

“Y/N!” Sam calls, smiling as you walk in, “We were just talkin’ about you, actually,”.

“That’s…not always a good thing,” you reply, picking up a spoon to scrape the last of the lasagna into a container.

“Oh no, it was all good,” Nat assures you, talking over her shoulder as she washes dishes by the sink, “We were just saying how cute the two of you are,”.

Your heart leaps with joy. “You think we’re cute?” you ask, aiming to keep your tone nonchalant despite the fact that you’re squealing internally, overjoyed that Wanda has won Nat’s affection — no simple feat.

“I think you’re great for each other,” Sam says, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the two of you are like  _polar_  opposites, but—,”

“They say opposites attract for a reason, no?” Nat interrupts, casting you a mischievous wink. “I hope she sticks around, Y/N,”.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your eyes flicking up to look at Wanda, who is laughing at something Bucky just said, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in a most adorable manner. “I hope so too,”.

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog this post on [tumblr!](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/post/166245078425/not-your-type/)
> 
> And whilst you're there, come say hi to me :)


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